


Marry You

by bukkunkun



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Artistic Liberties, Artistic License, Escape, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Tentacles, Original Character(s), Re-Education, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Running Away, Strip Poker, cecil baby you have to see the world it's fucking amazing, sorry guys maybe next time, you haven't seen enough of it and baby the 'countries' in europe you went to aren't real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want to get married?” he blurted out suddenly, the question popping from his lips out of nowhere, and a dark red blush crossed his face. Crap, he thought, it hadn’t really gone the way he had wanted it to—he had planned on a little light talk, perhaps a little lovely banter and dirty flirting, but Cecil—God, why was he like this—couldn’t he have at least kept his cool? “To me, at least—uh, yeah,” he stammered, further damning himself to more self-embarrassment, as all confidence retracted its hold on him, leaving him a shaky, jumpy mess that had managed to spectacularly mess things up.</p><p>Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one flustered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hypothesis Testing

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution to this beautiful fandom. You people are amazing, and Cecilos is the most canon OTP I have ever had and they make me cry on a regular basis.
> 
> The more interesting bits are in the next chapter, and this is riddled in so much headcanons it hurts just looking at it, wow.

It was hard enough sneaking beer into the studio, but the Management sneaking dark tendrils into the corridor he had to run through was something else entirely, as, grinning widely, he rushed uncharacteristically through the familiar walls of the radio station, a lovely dulcet voice ringing clear into his ear through his earphones. His phone was jumping up and down in his lab coat’s pockets, as the plan he was thinking of ran through at lightning speeds in his head. He turned a corner quickly, giving this half-month’s brand-new intern a little careless wave before jumping over another tendril the Management sent at him.

The blackness instead curled away from him and grabbed the intern’s—Charlie? Chad? Chiz? He couldn’t remember—ankle, and dragged _him_ back instead, screaming bloody murder in terror as even his nails scratching the ground couldn’t save him from the Management’s powerful tendrils.

“ _Charles_?” his boyfriend’s voice spoke up in his ear, over the radio. _Ah_ , so the intern’s name was Charles, was it? “ _Is anything going on back there? Oh, listeners, I’m afraid our new intern’s quite the klutz. This morning, he dropped the microphone, and it made a most_ dreadful _noise—listeners, I’m glad you weren’t around to hear_ that.”

He chuckled slightly to himself, shaking his head as the door to the booth dawned on him, and he slowed down to a light jog before coming to a stop at the door.

It was unprofessional for him to interrupt Cecil during his broadcast, he suddenly realised. His eyes widened slightly and he checked his watch—well, _one_ of them, anyway. He wore two watches, one from Night Vale and another the one he brought in with him. As expected, the two were showing completely different times, but according to the Night Vale watch, it was nearing the time for Cecil to sign off, and bid the town goodnight.

“ _… Oh, it seems Intern Charles was taken in for a word with the station Management. I can see them through the window, and those tendrils look a_ little _too wild today. I wonder what went wrong? Could it be the microphone?_ ”

He smiled, chuckling. Cecil _always_ hit the nail on the head when it comes to these things.

Patiently, he leant against the door, and held the bottles of beer by their necks as he waited for Cecil to bid Night Vale goodnight. The moment he heard that lovely voice softly bid the town goodnight, after a final reminder against the blasted dog park again—he winced slightly, remembering the mess he had to fix (yet _again_ , the Sheriff’s Secret Police did _nothing_ about these incidents— _he_ had to get to the bottom of things; but at least, that intern Dana was alright, if a little malnourished. Cecil’s tone when he reported to his boyfriend live that she was alright was one of the lightest he heard from him on-air in a long time—a _very_ long time,) as he shook his head.

“Charles?” Cecil’s voice spoke up, as the door to the booth opened in front of him, hiding him from his boyfriend’s view. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know about him,” Carlos spoke up, and the door closer faster than he had ever seen. The look on Cecil’s face considerably brightened up the room, with his violet eyes wide with happiness, and his tattoos swirling in and out from beneath the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. “But I am.” He grinned, straightening up in time to meet with Cecil’s bodily hug. A light peck on his lips and a little breathless giggle later, he pulled away gently to hand him one of the two bottles of beer he had with him.

“Wheat by-product?” Cecil asked, raising an eyebrow, but still smiling at him. “Oh, beautiful, _beautiful_ , Carlos, you’ll kill us like this.”

“Non-wheat, Cecil.” He replied, taking a swig from his own bottle. “It’s malted barley.” His lips curled up into a smirk around the glass rim, though, when he saw a little coy smile spreading across his Cecil’s lips.

“ _Really_?” the broadcaster asked, leaning forward, lowering his bottle behind his back, as his other hand gently touched Carlos’s on his own bottle, gently lowering it from his boyfriend’s lips.

“Yeah, really.” The scientist replied.

“Can I give it a go, then?”

Carlos smirked, and wordlessly nodded. Cecil’s grin turned more than a little lecherous, as his hand curled slowly around Carlos’s, and pulled the bottle closer to himself, licking his lips into a shiny sheen, before pressing the rim of the bottle to them, soft flesh folding lightly at the pressure.

“Well, Cecil?” Carlos asked, as Cecil smirked around the rim of the bottle.

“ _Wait_ , my Carlos.” He purred into the glass, before parting his lips, the beer’s dark liquid flowing past easily parted lips for a brief moment, before Cecil pulled back, licking first the rim of the bottle— _slowly_ —before licking his lips again, leaving a shiny sheen on them. “ _Scrumptious_.” He lowly replied, handing Carlos his bottle back, before opening his own.

The scientist swallowed, and he briefly wondered when his throat had gone dry.

He also wondered when he had ever hesitated when it came to Cecil.

“Do you want to get married?” he blurted out suddenly, the question popping from his lips out of nowhere, and a dark red blush crossed his face. _Crap_ , he thought, it hadn’t really gone the way he had wanted it to—he had planned on a little light talk, perhaps a little lovely banter and dirty flirting, but Cecil— _God_ , why was he like _this_ —couldn’t he have at least kept his cool? “To me, at least—uh, yeah,” he stammered, further damning himself to more self-embarrassment, as all confidence retracted its hold on him, leaving him a shaky, jumpy mess that had managed to spectacularly mess things up.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the _only_ one flustered.

The sultry look Cecil had on his face immediately dissolved into a doe-eyed stare, his eyes wide with surprise, embarrassment— _joy_ , as the coy smile shifted into quivering lips, with half-forming words that failed to form on his usually articulate tongue tumbling out as incoherent syllables of embarrassment. Cecil’s hands shook, as well as his shoulders, as a flush as deep and as hot as his spread across his face, heading down his neck and reaching the tips of his ears, and his nose, and Carlos wanted nothing more than to plant a soft kiss on each red ear.

If only he could gather enough confidence up again, anyway.

“M-marry?” the broadcaster stuttered, his grip on his own bottle of beer faltering, the glass trembling precariously in his loose fingers. Carlos’s eyes widened slightly and he reached forward and took the bottle from Cecil’s hands, lacing their fingers with unsure digits.

A little whine and an undignified squeak escaped Cecil’s lips as Carlos’s warm fingers touched his and he slunk back away from his boyfriend, still smiling stupidly, uneasy light giggles escaping curled-up lips that were caught by Carlos’s shaking ones.

The two of them let out dissolving, embarrassed laughter into each other’s mouths, as they kissed in the hallway, Cecil’s shaking hands grasping at Carlos’s lab coat lapels to ground himself against his boyfriend.

Carlos was the one to pull away, to see Cecil’s eyes tightly shut, his lips still curled up in that smile of his, and his hands balled into fists in his coat, scrunching up the white cloth. He chuckled fondly, growing a little bolder with each passing moment.

“Cecil.” He whispered into the broadcaster’s ear, kissing its crest lightly, pulling him into a hug, as he felt him still shaking from happiness. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.” Cecil replied, flustered, grinning awkwardly at him, and Carlos gave him a pout.

“It’s not a yes, either.” He replied, “This test is inconclusive—I can’t really come up with a resolution with that sort of data.”

Cecil laughed, brightly, happily, and Carlos’s chest felt so light. He hadn’t felt this great in a while, and he embraced this moment—rather literally, he realised, as he squeezed Cecil’s waist. “Am I going to have to conduct tests again? Re-test a new hypothesis.”

“Carlos,” Cecil breathed, laughing, as Carlos continued.

“Hypothesis—the test subject: Cecil; my _darling_ Cecil,” at this, Cecil’s face flushed brighter, and his smile widened all the more. “Is willing to marry me.” He planted a soft kiss on Cecil’s nose. “Methodology—the experimenter will ask him an important question:” he looked right at Cecil, and lifted his free hand to cup his cheek in it. “Do you want to get married?”

“Results, the _test subject_ ,” Cecil continued, “ _Does_ want to get married, yes, to the experimenter, the beautiful, perfect Carlos the Scientist— _my_ Carlos.”

Giggling, he leaned up and kissed the taller man again, and they pulled each other close to themselves tightly, like the city council ruled it illegal for each other to let go. Eventually the need for air persisted, and the lovers parted, breathless laughter mixing together as Cecil pulled Carlos’s forehead closer to press against his.

“Conclusion?” he asked.

“I’m going to take you away.” Carlos replied, and at this Cecil’s eyes widened. “Out of Night Vale—let’s go somewhere, out and away from here.” The words tumbled out of his mouth so easily, so quickly, like was afraid that if he didn’t let them out fast enough, Cecil would never hear them—the Secret Police would be there to tear them apart; the hooded figures were there to deny them their happiness. “Have fun, at least just for a while—I don’t know, let’s go to Vegas.”

“Carlos?”

“Let’s just get out of here, just the two of us. Please, just at least for a little while, out there in the rea—” he stopped himself, and shook his head. “Out there, in the… in the…”

Cecil pressed a gentle hand on his cheek and smiled at him. “Where _you_ come from.” He finished for him, and Carlos nodded.

“… Even just for a while, please.” He half-begged, and Cecil smiled at him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He softly replied, and at this, a wide smile crossed Carlos’s face.

“Thank you.” He replied, “I’ll come get you at your apartment tomorrow night. Pack light—be ready to run.” He told him, pressing the beer bottle back into Cecil’s hand.

Cecil laughed, breathlessly, and nodded.

“I can’t wait already.” He replied, dissolving into a delighted laugh when Carlos kissed him one more time— _hard_ , and passionately, before pulling away, grinning at him brightly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Carlos told him, before pulling away. “And, Cecil—”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He smiled, before rushing away, dodging the tendrils of the Management that emerged again from its office, covered in what suspiciously looked like human blood.

A smile crossed Cecil’s face, and he waved weakly back. “I love you too, my dear, _beautiful_ Carlos…” he trailed off into a sigh, and leant against the wall, a half- smile on his face as he collected himself, fanning himself with his free hand to calm himself down.

He pointedly ignored the fact his hand wrapped around his beer bottle was shaking.


	2. Methodology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Running away,” he repeated, sighing the words longingly, like it was Carlos’s name rolling off his smooth tongue. “Away. From Night Vale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, so I said it was going to have only two chapters but then these two dorks happened so now I have to deal with three, boo. Well, more for you guys to read, I suppose. I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter! :D

As the sun glared down on the earth, unforgiving, the moon bared down on his back heavily than he was used to. The desert was a hot, burning furnace during the daytime—the wind would be dry, hot, and grainy; painful, even, but at night it was just as unforgiving—cold, biting, and persistent, stronger than the day, even, at least, as it beat against his barely-clothed back. He had only a shirt on; his coat was in the car he left in the outskirts of town.

“Shit!” he hissed, stumbling over his feet as the sight of Cecil’s apartment door came into view, the single light on the door his only beacon in the darkness he walked through.

He had been walking without a light—and the street lamps were out that evening. Only the moonlight gave him illumination; it was best to stay in the shadows, anyway.

“Cecil.” He simply said to the window, and it opened up to reveal the broadcaster, a wide smile on his face, an excited flush on his cheeks. “We’re running away.”

“Running away,” he repeated, sighing the words longingly, like it was Carlos’s name rolling off his smooth tongue. “Away. From Night Vale.”

Carlos nodded, bouncing on his heels. He was getting antsy; the Secret Police would be around any minute, and he wasn’t sure if he was able to run away with Cecil fast enough at this rate.

Thankfully, though, Cecil gave him a light peck on his lips, a giggle lighter than even the air tousling his air, and with a pleasant huff, he pulled away and heaved himself up and out the window, legs-first, right into Carlos’s arms.

“Nice catch.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around the back of Carlos’s neck, before kissing him again. In the darkness outside his house, the scientist could see Cecil’s tattoos clear on his arms, exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. They were twisting this way and that pleasantly, forming little tiny hearts and twined tendrils  around wide-open eyes, glowing so very lightly a shade of light purple.

Cecil hardly seemed to notice. Carlos hardly minded.

“I just pulled you out of your window,” he replied quietly, and at this, Cecil opened his mouth to laugh—only it disappeared upon seeing a familiar light a few yards away.

“ _Carlos_ ,” he hissed, tugging on his lover’s arm, and at once, the man knew. He lowered Cecil to the ground, and took his hand instead, gripping it tightly, as he took note of the sling bag hanging from Cecil’s shoulder.

“ _Run_.” He whispered into Cecil’s ear, and together, they hurried away through the street, ducking into the shadows between houses, and buildings, as they headed to the edge of town, Carlos in the lead.

“Oh!” Cecil let out, as Carlos tripped over again, for the second time that night, and a bright laugh bubbled from his lips. He pulled him back up on his feet, chuckling as Carlos shot him a dirty glare. “A little toe-tied, my Carlos?”

“Not another word, Cecil,” he chuckled back, before tugging forcefully on Cecil’s arm to launch him forward, making him trip over as well. Luckily for him, Cecil managed to react in time to grab Carlos by the lapels of his shirt, pulling him down to the earth with him.

They collapsed on the dirt road, dust flying in the air around them, dirtying their clothes, as they dissolved into fits of silent laughter, muffling what little escaped into each other’s necks as they rolled around off the side of the road, away from the eyes of the Secret Police.

A little smack on Carlos’s shoulder from Cecil calmed the two lovers down, and they looked at each other, their limbs tangled as they lay next to each other. They fell silent, and a soft smile crossed Cecil’s face.

“You’re so beautiful, my Carlos.” He murmured, and the scientist chuckled.

“So are you, but we have got to get a move on.” He replied just as quietly, and with practised ease, he got up, picking up Cecil along with him in a fireman’s carry. Cecil had to firmly plant his hands on his mouths to prevent the giggles escaping unheeded from them, as he writhed around in Carlos’s grip delightedly, lightly smacking his shoulder blade with his elbow.

Carlos ignored him, but he was smirking himself, and they soon arrived at his car without much problem. He let Cecil down from his shoulders—only to get a kiss planted on his face again, much to his surprise. Chuckling he kissed his boyfriend back briefly, before pulling away.

“In a hurry, Cecil—let’s go,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat. “We’ll do that later.” He chuckled, before making his way to the driver’s seat.

Without much ado, he had the engine started after Cecil settled into the seat next to him, and he sped off into the horizon.

* * *

Cecil had taken to Las Vegas much better than he had expected. Sure, he drove into town half-asleep and almost lethargic, the sun, newly-risen, barely reaching its topmost peak in the sky, but then the look on Cecil’s face the moment he drove past the famous sign high above their heads was so full of wonder, and awe, that somehow, he had found a little more energy to go on until he got to the little apartment he had borrowed from a friend.

Cecil was bouncing with excitement, his eyes wide as he took in the area around him with childlike wonder. Clearly he hadn’t been somewhere like Vegas. Chuckling to himself as he locked the car, Carlos shook his head fondly and reached into the mailbox next to the door to pull out a set of keys.

“All this, Las Vegas?” he heard Cecil speak up happily behind him, in that tone of his , like when he would talk to the citizens of Night Vale during his broadcasts. “It isn’t like anywhere I’ve ever seen before—the lights, the sun, and the buildings! Oh, Night Vale will love to hear about this,” he gushed, turning to grin widely at Carlos, who smiled back at him tiredly from his spot next to the door. He was holding the keys in a loose grip, and his hands trembled so much he couldn’t slip the key into the slot.

“Glad to see you like it here,” Carlos replied, gripping his hands to keep them from shaking, but Cecil had noticed him, and with wide eyes, his boyfriend rushed to his side, taking the keys from his hands to unlock the door for him.

“Carlos, are you alright?” he asked, cupping the man’s face in his hands, and the scientist offered him a weak smile.

“Sleepless. Sorry,” he replied, heaving himself into the apartment slowly. “I’ll be alright.”

“You need sleep.” Cecil replied, closing the door behind him as he pulled along his sling bag and Carlos’ knapsack. Gently he laid them down on the nearest surface (which was, frankly, the floor) before pulling Carlos into a warm hug. “Lie down.”

“Where?” the man laughed sleepily, wrapping his arms around Cecil’s waist, and at this, the broadcaster smirked slightly.

“Over here,” he replied, sharply leaning to the side.

Carlos’s eyes widened as he was taken with Cecil’s fall, but then he immediately relaxed when they landed on the couch, tangled once more in each other’s limbs, this time pressed together all the more with what little space they had on the couch, Carlos’s back pressed right up against the backrest and Cecil, as the latter snuggled forward up against Carlos’s chest.

“Sneaky,” he commented, chuckling sleepily, and Cecil replied with a little kiss to his chin before stroking his hair gently.

“Go to sleep. I’m fine with waiting; we’ll take a look around later.” He told him, and with a grateful hum, Carlos immediately fell asleep in Cecil’s arms.

The broadcaster watched him for a while, silent, but content, the smile never leaving his lips as he, too, fell asleep in the peaceful silence of the apartment they were in.

As his eyes slipped closed, he failed to notice the single tear that rolled down the sleeping man’s cheek.

* * *

Cecil woke up to the sensation of a warm hand in his hair, and he looked up to see Carlos already awake, smiling down at him as gently as he always did, his glasses dirty, and askew. His perfect, perfect hair was mussed-up, and his eyes were still half-lidded, heavy with fresh sleep, and . A sleepy smile crossed his face as he leant forward to kiss him.

“What time is it?” he mumbled, snuggling ever closer to Carlos, as the scientist checked his wristwatch.

“4:30 PM,” Carlos breathed, and from the look in his eyes, Cecil could see relief—possibly, from seeing ‘normal’ time flow again. A sigh escaped his lips and he buried his face in Carlos’s shirt, as his palm pressed between Cecil’s shoulder blades, rubbing reassuringly in small circles. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, but Cecil shook his head.

“It’s alright,” he replied, sitting up slowly. “Carlos—” he began to say, but the scientist, grinning knowingly, sat up as well, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Cecil, are you hungry?” he asked, and the broadcaster blinked at him. “I am.”

“Well, I guess,” Cecil shrugged, “But Carlos—”

“Don’t worry,” the man grinned, pulling him up to his feet, “Let’s go out—I’ll show you how _great_ wheat is.”

And it was, really— _superb_ , even, Cecil thought to himself as he polished off yet another slice of pizza and reached for another one. Across him, Carlos watched on, amused, as he chewed thoughtfully on his own slice.

“What did I tell you?” he asked, amused, as Cecil finally put the slice down to take a drink from the glass of beer he had next to him.

“I don’t understand,” he took a deep breath, and took a swig of beer again, before continuing. “Why would wheat and its by-products turn into snakes when they’re _this_ wonderful? _God_ , I miss eating real pizza.”

Carlos laughed good-naturedly, shaking his head fondly. “You done? I’ve got something else for us to do, too.”

Cecil peered at him, in the middle of biting into his pizza, but the man just smiled at him, and gestured at the building across them—and Cecil’s eyes widened.

“Is that…” He breathed, and Carlos nodded.

“The Marriage Bureau, Cecil. We’re getting married. Sorry, it’s all I could afford,” he apologised, swirling dark liquid in his own cup before sipping at it tentatively. “I know it’s a little embarrassing, given that, well,” he laughed weakly, wiping away a smear of tomato sauce on the corner of Cecil’s mouth, “I don’t make a lot, but—”

“I can’t wait,” Cecil gushed, smiling at him brightly, and right then and there, Carlos swore he almost melted with a strange warmth blossoming through himself as he saw Cecil practically—no, _literally_ , glowing with happiness. A slit appeared at the middle of his forehead, and his third eye began to slowly peep out from where it was, as his tattoos glowed their luminescent violet.

He was torn between telling Cecil about it or not, but he didn’t want to ruin anything for his boyfriend.

“Carlos, look! They’re turning on the lights!”

A soft violet hue washed over them, as flashing lights and neon bulbs lit up brightly, on-and-off, as text and bright advertisements lit up brightly from outside, seeping into the window, and into their skin, and the world lit up the way Cecil’s eyes and his tattoos did.

It was beautiful, he thought. Unnaturally beautiful, and he loved it so.

Cecil’s tattoos were writhing in happiness as the broadcaster looked outside the window. “Carlos,” he spoke up, his voice low, and soft, like he was back in Night Vale, in front of the microphone, delivering the most wonderful news he had ever delivered.

It took him a moment to realise that this was how Cecil sounded like when he found out he hadn’t died in the attack on him by the little people underneath the pin retrieval area of Lane 5.

“Carlos, they look like the lights above the Arby’s,” Cecil continued, grasping his hand, smiling at him brightly, brighter than he had in a while. “Remember?”

“I remember,” he replied.

This time around, it was his eyes on Cecil the entire time, as the two of them sat still for a while, admiring the lights, and thinking of those they understood long ago, bright lights above their home, where they first met, where they first understood each other, and where they first fell in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorks being sweet to each other makes me a little weak in the knees. Ooh.
> 
> I took a /lot/ of liberties with regards to geography, and legal issues. I'm pretty sure same-sex marriage is still not allowed in Nevada, buuuut I'll have artistic license to back me up, haha. What matters is the idea, eh? Ahoho.


	3. Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You guys are officially married. How’s that feel?”
> 
> “Amazing,” Cecil replied almost immediately, his smile bright, the ring on his finger shimmering in the dim white light above them. It was just a simple silver band, a little on the cheap side and hardly worth anything to pilfer, but it was, to him, perfect, and he wouldn’t give anything in the world to replace it.
> 
> “Unbelievable.” Carlos chuckled, “And we lived in Night Vale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay researching the civil wedding process in Nevada took fucking forEVER BECAUSE I DON'T EVEN LIVE IN THE USA I'M ????????
> 
> ALSO OMC'S????? DON'T HATE ON MY BABIES PLS HE IS HARMLESS I S2G
> 
> ALSO HORRIBLE SENSE OF JUDGEMENT BECAUSE??? THERE???? IS??? NOW??? GOING????? TO BE???? A 4TH CHAPTER??????? WHERE THERE IS S E X????
> 
> WARNINGS FOR HEAVY HEADCANONS AND MARRIAGE SHIT AND CAR MAKEOUTS
> 
> sorta

“Name?” The young man asked, looking up from the sheet of paper, eyebrow raised, as he tapped his pen against his cheek.

“Palmer,” Cecil blurted out, “Cecil Gershwin Palmer.”

“Age and birth date?”

“29. June 15.”

“Social security number?”

Cecil blinked, for a moment, and turned to look at Carlos.

“None,” the man answered for him, and he nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Pervious marriages?”

“None,” he replied happily, smiling at Carlos as he laced his fingers through his.

“You?” the young man turned to look at Carlos.

“Vasquez.” Carlos replied, and at this, Cecil’s eyes widened. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never known the man’s surname. “Carlos Vasquez.”

 _Vasquez_. It sounded so common, so _normal_ , yet it was the most magical thing Cecil had ever heard. It was _Carlos_ ’ surname—it was a part of a man he treasured so very much.

Carlos gave the young man his birthday, his age, and also declined the presence of a social security number, all while Cecil held onto his hand, staring at him silently, still awed at the new gold nugget he learned about his beautiful lover.

“Previous marriages?”

He felt Carlos squeeze his hand.

“One.” He replied, and at this Cecil turned to look at him, his eyes wide. “Deceased.”

 _Oh_.

“Alright, just give me a moment, ‘kay?” the man told them, before heading off away from the desk.

“You never told me your surname.” Cecil chose to say, breaking a moment of silence.

“You’re not surprised by a previous marriage?”

A little smile crossed Cecil’s lips, and he shook his head. “No. That’s in the past now, Carlos. Why would that matter?”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m not upset. I’m _not_.”

“I never asked if you were upset.”

Cecil bit his lip, and Carlos sighed, giving him a light kiss on his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I’m so very sorry.”

“It just sounds so… wr—no, um…”

“Wrong? That I married someone else?”

“Yes!” the broadcaster blurted out, but then slapped his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Carlos, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled at Cecil, “I know it’s a little hard to digest, but, well, I… I fell in love, a long time ago. With a colleague of mine, we worked together.” He gently grasped Cecil’s wrists and pulled them away from his lover’s mouth. “She died about a year after we got married; she was poisoned by a… a frog.”

Cecil couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips. “Frogs aren’t poisonous.”

“You’d be surprised exactly how poisonous arrow tree frogs are.” Carlos replied, a sad smile crossing his face.

“Well, poisonous frogs don’t exist—like mountains!”

At this, Carlos heaved a sigh. “Cecil, how many times do I have to—”

“I’m sorry.” He cut him off. “I just… I’m really sorry.”

Carlos sighed, and ran his hand through Cecil’s hair. “It’s alright. If it makes you feel any better about me, I really am in love with you. You—” he paused, flushing and swallowing, embarrassed, “You made me fall in love again, and I just—Cecil, can I just… stop?”

There was a tired, happy smile on Cecil’s face, and he planted a light kiss on Carlos’s lips.

“I wish you didn’t,” he replied pleasantly, “But I understand—and anyway, I can’t ever stay angry at you, you perfect, perfect, beautiful—” he paused, and flushed lightly, “You’re making that face again.”

“Yes, yes, I am,” Carlos replied, relieved, kissing Cecil lightly on the nose just as they heard the young man clear his throat. The two immediately separated from each other, flustered, but the young man just smiled at them and handed them their pre-application form.

“It’s on me.” He smiled, and the two stared at him, eyes wide. “I mean, I can only afford the pre-app, though, you’re going to have to shoulder the actual licence.” He shrugged. “And it looks like the two of you are eloping? I’ll be your witness, if you want. You need at least one.”

“… Thank you,” Carlos slowly replied, “Wow, um.”

“Why are you doing this for us?” Cecil asked, his tone formal, like in an interview.

“Well, you’re my first couple to come in here that are _actually_ sober.” He shrugged, grinning, “’Sides, I know what eloping is like—my friend had a similar thing going on with him, and—look, it’s a long story.” He chuckled, holding his hand out to the two of them. “Name’s Reece. I’ll help you guys out, since, uh,” he chuckled weakly, “You guys don’t actually have all the requirements filled, and you’re really not supposed to be allowed to get married.”

“Reece, thank you so much,” Carlos sighed, taking the man’s hand and shaking it.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled, shrugging, as Cecil took the papers from him. “C’mon, this way—I’ll marry you guys here, where my boss can’t find you. It’s my break right now, anyway, so it’ll be a snap. Just gotta say a few state vows and we’re all cool.”

The two grinned brightly at each other, before following the young man to an empty meeting room.

“Nabbed some forms earlier while I was gone,” Reece continued to explain, after Carlos closed the door behind them. “I’ll get the processes done when I come off break.” Grinning, he held up a folder, with a few papers in them. “Ready for this?”

Carlos opened his mouth to agree, when Cecil raised his hand.

“A moment, please.”

“Yeah?”

“May I just…” he glanced at Carlos, uneasily grinning, before inching towards the door. “I’ll just head to the bathroom for a bit, I won’t be long.”

Without even waiting for any responses, Cecil left the room.

“Hey, Mr. Vasquez?” Reece spoke up, and Carlos turned to look at him. “You and Mr. Palmer… aren’t just eloping, aren’t you?”

Carlos’ expression darkened, but Reece stared him down. “I took a look through your credentials, the both of you—you were cleared for operations in a town that’s kept secret from the general public, and he’s someone from that same town.”

“Is that why you’re helping us?” Carlos replied instead, and Reece shrugged.

“Sorta.” He replied, pulling up his sleeve to show Carlos a scar that the man readily recognised—it was the permanent scar young Boy Scouts from Night Vale would retain after bloodletting to the blood eagle to see their worthiness. “How’s Night Vale?”

“You’re…”

“Reece Blasco.” He replied, “My dad skipped town with insurance money? He brought me along; people didn’t know, but I’m sure Cecil did.” He snickered, “Anyway, he’s an asshole, and you should probably chase after Cecil, he’s probably hyperventilating in the bathroom.”

“How do you…?”

“My breathing is shorting out and my head is spinning.” Reece replied. “Everyone in Night Vale feels it when Cecil’s going a little overbo— _ack_.”

“Right, I better. We’ll be right back.”

Reece could only give him a weak wave as he hurried outside.

* * *

 

“Cecil?” Carlos’s voice drifted to his ears, and at once breath caught in Cecil’s throat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he replied, forcing his voice to even and willing with all his might for his third eye to shut, but it refused to, and his tattoos glowed and writhed around on his arms.

“Yeah, well, Reece is hyperventilating in the meeting room, and I really, really want to marry you.” He could hear Carlos’s smile from the other side of the divider, and, frowning, Cecil peered outside the stall he was hiding in. “Cecil.”

“Carlos, I’m really worried—we’re in a government office, what if the Sheriff’s Secret Police comes looking for us here, and, and we’re sent for re-education before we can even get—”

“Let’s beat them to it, then.” Carlos smiled, sneaking his hand into the stall to grasp Cecil’s, and gently he pulled the man out of the cubicle. “Come on, Vegas is waiting, and I can’t wait to marry you already.”

Cecil’s look of uncertainty was something he never wanted to see, it wasn’t like him to be like this, but then the smile that followed after that, albeit uneasy, was the best thing Carlos had ever seen this entire day.

“So, let’s get to the conclusion already, okay?” he asked, and with a light chuckle, Cecil nodded and followed after him out of the bathroom, his third eye shutting to an almost indiscernible slit and his tattoos regressing back up into his sleeves.

* * *

“We will now sign the schedule, which will bind Cecil Gershwin Palmer and Carlos Vasquez together in law.” Reece smiled, laying down the two sheets of marriage certificates, still looking a little purple in his cheeks unsettlingly, but the three of them were so used to such sights in Night Vale that none of them ever mentioned the dark colour in the young man’s cheeks as Cecil and Carlos signed both copies.

“Okay, great!” Reece smiled brightly, “You guys are officially married. How’s that feel?”

“Amazing,” Cecil replied almost immediately, his smile bright, the ring on his finger shimmering in the dim white light above them. It was just a simple silver band, a little on the cheap side and hardly worth anything to pilfer, but it was, to him, perfect, and he wouldn’t give _anything_ in the world to replace it.

“Unbelievable.” Carlos chuckled, “And we lived in Night Vale.”

“I can attest to that,” Reece laughed, handing them one of the certificates. “This is yours. I’ll take the other one for records. That’ll be 60 bucks. Sorry I can’t help you out there.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos assured him, handing him the cash, and Reece gave them a thumbs-up.

“Good luck with married life,” he grinned, “And try not to get killed, okay?”

Cecil laughed. “We will.”

Reece shook his head, chuckling fondly, before heading to the door and opening it for them. “And now, the newlyweds will step over the threshold and into their new blissful marital life.”

They couldn’t agree more.

* * *

Cecil hadn’t stopped looking down at the ring on his finger, smiling happily as they sat in the car together, still in the parking lot they had parked in. The smile on his face was warm, overjoyed, as his tattoos swirled around and under the simple silver ring, softly glowing purple as they caressed the ring through his skin.

“Cecil.” Carlos spoke up, smiling at him, admiring the glint of his own ring in his peripheral vision.

The broadcaster looked up from the ring, still smiling, and without any warning, launched himself into Carlos’ lap and kissed him, hard. Chuckling into the kiss, Carlos kissed his husband— _husband,_ wow—back, resting his hands on Cecil’s waist as he felt him wrap his arms around the back of his neck and climb into his lap, pressing him uncomfortably into his seat, but he hardly minded.

Parting only slightly to catch their breaths, Cecil looked right into his eyes.

“I love you.” He mumbled into the skin of Carlos’s lips, and he smiled right into Cecil’s.

“I love you too, Cecil.”

Carlos’s phone suddenly rang, interrupting their moment, and the two shared a look of confusion, before Carlos picked it up.

“ _Please, Mr. Vasquez,_ ” Reece’s voice drawled from the other side, “ _Take your car makeouts somewhere else, you two are_ grown men, _for God’s sake. Have sex in your hotel or something_.”

The two of them froze for a moment, before turning to see the young man grinning at them from the second floor window. Cecil immediately clambered off Carlos’s lap, the man laughing embarrassedly, as Reece gave them an ‘I’m-watching-you’ gesture, before giving them a little wave.

Carlos returned the favour, before starting the car.

“C’mon, Cecil. Let’s head back to the apartment,” he began to say, grinning like an idiot, when he saw Cecil staring at the casinos wide-eyed from his side of the car. “… Cecil?”

“Carlos, I’ve never actually _been_ to a casino.” Cecil spoke up, turning to look at him. “They’re _real_ , right? No dark shadow beings or three-headed pigeons and rabbits in there like what the City Council says, right?”

Carlos had _almost_ asked him about it, but he shut his mouth and shook his head fondly.

“Weird, Night Vale. Right,” He murmured, before grinning at Cecil. “Want to go in to figure that out?”

Cecil’s eyes brightened up, and Carlos laughed, kissing him again, before stepping down on the acceleration. Might as well lose a bit of money in mindless gambling while they were here—it was his own wedding present to Cecil, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEX NEXT CHAPTER I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT
> 
> ALSO CASINOS WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	4. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve only got one thing left to pay up with, my Carlos,” he murmured against Carlos’ lips as he leant forward to brush them together, teasingly, light like the touch of a feather. “This beautiful little ring around my finger.”
> 
> “Probably not worth very much,” Carlos replied back breathlessly, as he leant forward to kiss Cecil fully, but the broadcaster pulled his head back, smirking teasingly.
> 
> “It’s worth the world to me.” Cecil replied, kissing him lightly. “Because you see, I married the most beautiful, perfect man I could ever have met.”
> 
> “Really? Who’s the schmuck?”
> 
> Cecil giggled at this, and hit him lightly on the arm.
> 
> “You’re the schmuck, my Carlos.” He replied simply, before climbing into the man’s lap, kissing him senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO I LIED, THERE'S 5 CHAPTERS, BUT THE FIFTH ONE'S AN EPILOGUE SO IT DOESN'T COUNT
> 
> UGH I FUCKING SUCK I'M RLY RUSTY AT PORN SOMEONE HOLD ME
> 
> SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEX

“What does this do, Carlos?”

“Well, uh. Just insert a coin in there and then push the button over there.”

“That’s it? I thought casinos were more exciting than that,” Cecil laughed, picking a coin out of his wallet and sliding it into the slot with ease. “This will be a _snap_.”

“Cecil,” Carlos laughed, “Just because it’s really easy to do, doesn’t mean that it’s a sure-win.”

“Oh, Carlos. Perfect, perfect Carlos, you’re too pessimistic.” Cecil grinned, pressing the button. The lights on the slot machine lit up, and the animation of the spinning wheels began to turn. Cecil leaned in close to the screen, eyes wide and lips curled into a confident smile, as Carlos looked on, arms crossed, amused at his husband’s excitement at the incoming result.

“Yes…”

The first icon came up, and then the second—completely alike, and Cecil’s hands balled into gleeful fists as he began to bounce excitedly. Carlos’ eyes widened slightly and he raised an eyebrow.

Was it really…?

The third icon appeared—and it was a different one.

Carlos resisted the urge to laugh, but couldn’t help the slightly disappointed sigh that escaped his lips.

“See, Cecil?”

He peered at the broadcaster, who was staring at the slot machine, annoyance, dismay and anger clear in his eyes. He looked exactly the way he did when he was talking about Steve Carlsburg.

Oddly, Carlos found the petulant pout that grew on Cecil’s lips all the more cute on him, and an endearing smile crossed his face.

“Cecil, honey,” he sweetly said, gently grasping his husband’s shoulders—only for Cecil to jerk slightly, clearly annoyed, and he pulled his wallet out again. “Cecil?”

“I’m trying this _again_.” He simply said, grumbling darkly as he slot in another coin, and tried again.

… And again, and again.

On the fifth coin, Carlos decided to stop his husband. “Cecil, calm down, it’s just a slot machine.”

“This isn’t fair!” he replied, frowning, but Carlos laughed pleasantly and pecked him on the lips. “Carlos! We _have_ to at least win something!”

“Yeah, well, it really sometimes just doesn’t work.”

Cecil frowned at him, crossing his arms, but then a look of realisation crossed his face and a smirk grew on his lips. “… Yes, but we can _make_ it work.”

Carlos’ expression faltered, and his mouth hung open. “Cecil, wait, what are you—”

Cecil turned his attention back to the slot machine, and his third eye opened as he leaned forward to look at the screen intently, his eyes flashing dark, before turning to static as his tattoos glowed and writhed all over his arms.

“Cecil!”

Smirking even in his trance, Cecil slid a coin into the slot, as the screen flickered to static noise, before normalising. Cecil pressed the button, and sat back, the glow in his arms disappearing as the icons aligned. “See, my dear Carlos?”

Carlos gaped at the three icons on the screen, and then the flashing message that crossed it:

**_JACKPOT_ **

“We won!” Cecil cheered happily, just as two attendants came up to them, holding up a tray with two glasses of champagne with them. “Look, Carlos! Drinks!”

“Complements of the casino,” one of them said, “If you could just present a valid ID, we’ll give you the check—you have won 10,000 dollars.”

Carlos’ jaw dropped, as Cecil happily handed over their marriage certificate.

“Newlyweds, huh?” one of them smiled as they wrote off the check. “Congratulations—you even won!”

They handed Carlos the check, and with a small bow, they left the two to their own devices. Cecil sauntered up to Carlos, his glass already empty, and plucked Carlos’ from his hand, taking a sip from it, smiling charmingly as his other hand picked the check from Carlos’ other hand.

“What next?” he asked right into Carlos’ ear and the man’s thought process ceased as Cecil put his empty glass into his hand.

“We hit the poker tables.” He automatically said, and grabbed Cecil’s hand and led him through the casino.

* * *

They won, of course, thanks to Cecil’s third eye and very clever positioning beneath purple lights to hide his glowing tattoos. Laughing together, he and Cecil stumbled into their lush 5-star-hotel room they had checked into using the money they won.

The clothes on their backs were tailored brand-names neither of them really remembered; their only concern was getting their dark coats off in a mess on the floor and kiss each other senseless, hot hands wandering over rumpled polo cloth and heated skin as tongues pressed against each other wetly, sweetly, like they had never before.

“Carlos,” Cecil gasped into the man’s hand as he felt fingers slip into the hem of his pants.

“Yeah?” came the distracted reply, as skilful fingers fumbled with the buckles of Cecil’s dark black suspenders.

Suddenly Cecil pulled away from Carlos, earning him a frown of disapproval from the dark-skinned man.

“One round.” He grinned, holding up a deck of cards he produced from his pocket, and Carlos laughed.

“You’ve grown a taste for poker, Cecil.” He simply said, but they settled down onto their large bed, Carlos dealing the cards. “What do we bet with?”

Cecil smirked, and tugged off his bowtie, tossing it into the space between them.

“No cheating, alright?” he laughed, but pulled off his own necktie and tossed it down between them.

* * *

“Alright, Cecil. Give me the shirt.”

“Really?” the broadcaster whined, “But it’s the last thing I’ve got!”

Carlos laughed good-naturedly, and flashed him his hand. “I win, Cecil. Fair and square.” He grinned, “Pay up.”

Cecil made a show of pouting.

“Oh, _fine_.” He sighed, turning around (at this, Carlos was about to laugh at the fact Cecil thought of even _turning around,_ they were married, for goodness’ sake) and slowly, inch by agonising inch, pulled down the cloth of his shirt down his left shoulder.

Carlos’ words died on his lips before he could even say them as he watched on completely silently as Cecil slipped the sleeve down his left shoulder. The tattoos on his skin writhed around slowly, coiling and uncoiling into turbulent shapes that seemed to ebb and flow over soft-looking skin, the tattoos glowing a soft purple as Carlos could see Cecil’s skin start flushing a lovely purple hue.

It was only _skin_ , for crying out loud, Carlos thought to himself, as Cecil got to work on the other shoulder, peering at him over it with a coy look, lips half-parted in a sultry smile as his hand rand down from the crevice of his neck and down his shoulder, past tattoos sweetly shaping into coherency and incoherency, deepening and brightening up with purple light as the air around the both of them grew hot and heavy.

He had barely noticed Cecil had finally worked his shirt off of him as he felt his pants tighten around his crotch, and his breath grow heavier, and hotter. He did snap out of his dazed stupor the moment the shirt hit his face, and spluttering, Carlos wrenched it off his face to see Cecil had turned around and clambered over to him, crawling on hands and knees over the soft comforters and over their strewn cards and clothes to lean right up into Carlos’ face.

“I’ve only got one thing left to pay up with, my Carlos,” he murmured against Carlos’ lips as he leant forward to brush them together, teasingly, light like the touch of a feather. “This beautiful little ring around my finger.”

“Probably not worth very much,” Carlos replied back breathlessly, as he leant forward to kiss Cecil fully, but the broadcaster pulled his head back, smirking teasingly.

“It’s worth the world to me.” Cecil replied, kissing him lightly. “Because you see, I married the most beautiful, perfect man I could ever have met.”

“Really? Who’s the schmuck?”

Cecil giggled at this, and hit him lightly on the arm.

“You’re the schmuck, my Carlos.” He replied simply, before climbing into the man’s lap, kissing him senseless.

Hands were quick in removing clothes, arms and fingers tangled in each other and scrabbled for the light switch in blind stupor as they kissed and kissed wetly, kicking off clothes and cards off the bed as Cecil laid back, and Carlos clambered on top of him.

A hand slammed against the light switch, and their world plunged into darkness.

“Carlos,” Cecil’s voice floated through the dark, “I can’t see,”

The scientist pressed a finger to Cecil’s lips, before reaching blindly at the bedside table to find the bottle of lubricant he had requested be put in the top drawer.

“Just wait it out.”

“W-wait what out? I can’t see you—”

Carlos softly shushed him, running his hands down the unseen expanse of Cecil’s skin, imagining all the tattoos writhing about under his hand, and he heard Cecil let out a soft groan at his touch.

“Trust me.” He simply said, his voice low and gravelly, as he wet his fingers with lube, breathing on it to warm it up for Cecil, as his other hand stroked down Cecil’s abdomen and along the sharp lines of his pelvis, hot fingers running teasingly down the lines his muscles made along the length of his pelvis, earning him a mewl of pleasure from Cecil, and—

 _Ah_.

The tattoos began to glow, and in their soft purple light, Carlos could see Cecil’s look of surprise, his eyes were wide, irises glowing purple, lighting up his flushed skin, his third eye a visible slit shining with a dim purple light.

“Carlos, my…”

He smiled at Cecil warmly, and slowly pulled his husband’s legs apart to present to himself his entrance.

“The experiment was a success,” he softly said, and the smile that crossed Cecil’s face was so lovely, he wished he had his camera with him. Instead, he reached down, lube warm on his fingers, and drew lazy circles along the rim of Cecil’s puckered entrance, earning him a strangled groan.

“ _Carlos_ , don’t tease,” he breathed, shakily, as in the dimness of the darkness around them; Carlos could see Cecil’s fingers dig into the sheets beneath them.

“Of course.” He replied, and slowly pushed his finger into Cecil. He listened for Cecil’s sounds, as the tattoos glowed a little brighter, the designs writhing around pleasantly as he saw pleasure wash over Cecil’s features. He worked his finger—slowly—into Cecil, waiting patiently for him to relax to his finger, but a whine and an impatient thrust into Carlos’ finger from his husband told him everything Cecil wanted to say.

 _Hurry up_.

So he complied, swiftly but carefully prying him open with two, then three slick, hot fingers, as moans escalated from light whimpers and strangled groans to gasps, loud and utterly _wrecked_ with love, and garbled diminutives of his name rolling off Cecil’s lips in a scattered, dulcet voice.

Carlos brushed his prostrate again, one more time, for good measure, and at this, Cecil’s hands shot up from the bed and tangled into his hair.

“ _Carlos_ ,” Cecil groaned, his voice rough and hoarse, and at this Carlos’ dick gave a jerk as pleasure sparked in the base of his belly just at the sound of gravel in Cecil’s usually velvet voice. “ _Please_.”

He nodded, distrustful of himself to say anything coherent, and withdrew his fingers to lathe lubrication onto his hot cock, harder than ever, and growing ever more impatient for Cecil’s welcome heat.

“Cecil,” he began to say, but the broadcaster gripped him by his hair and pulled him in to crash their lips together, pressing their hot bodies together and blocking the light from Cecil’s body with Carlos’.

Their world was dark again, but neither of them cared.

Carlos shuffled forward on his knees, picking up Cecil’s legs by his thighs, pulling slightly away from Cecil’s hungrily-kissing mouth to position his cock at his leaking entrance.

“I love you,” he breathed, and at this, he saw Cecil’s lips turn up into a small smile—that quickly turned to a silent ‘o’ as Carlos pushed in, bottoming out as Cecil easily opened up for him. His balls met the broadcaster’s ass, earning him a high-pitched keen of pleasure.

“O- _oh, God, Carlos_ —” Cecil babbled as he let him adjust to his length, “Move, God, I love you, please, please—”

It was different to see Cecil so undone, and it was so infuriatingly arousing that Carlos couldn’t help the strong rhythm he immediately went with as he pulled out until only the tip was in, and then thrusting back in powerfully, unforgiving, and burning desperate, the pace fast and hard as the lewd sound of flesh slapping flesh and the creaking of the bed beneath them faded into background noise as Carlos could only hear the noises that escaped Cecil’s lips.

Moans, mewls, gasps, breathy half-pronounced ‘ _Carlos_ , please, _yes_ ,’ and loud, fast-paced babbling of loving nothings that started blurring into a mix of a myriad of praise for the perfect, beautiful man fucking him into the mattress.

Cecil sang praise like an angel, Carlos thought to himself as he let Cecil pull him in by the hair again for a hard, wet kiss, shaking thighs and shanks wrapping around his waist as he could feel Cecil start clenching around him.

He was close—Carlos was right behind him.

The scientist grit his teeth, letting go of one of Cecil’s thighs to fist his cock roughly, his calloused hands providing sweet, sweet friction against Cecil’s sensitive skin. The mewls he got from Cecil he drank up with his tongue and lips, the pain of the tugs and grips at his hair only spurring him on to strengthen his thrusts into Cecil.

“I love you,” he growled again into Cecil’s ear, and that was the final straw. With a whine and a gasp that sounded like Carlos’ name, Cecil came into Carlos’ hand. The pressure all around his cock as Cecil came was delicious—it was heavenly, and with renewed vigour, he thrust into the sweet, tight heat until the coil in the pit of his stomach released its unbearable pressure, and he came, growling Cecil’s name.

The two were far too exhausted to move after that, silently basking in the comfortable silence of post-coitus afterglow, stupid smiles on their faces as they watched the light from Cecil’s tattoos dissipate.

When their world finally faded to full black, Carlos had pulled out of Cecil and the two of them lay under the covers, curled up in each other’s arms, their legs tangled in a mess of limbs.

“How did you know?” Cecil quietly asked, as the silence began to lull them to sleep. “That I would glow.”

“Hypothesis.” Carlos simply replied, kissing his nose gently. “Good night.”

“Good night, my perfect, beautiful Carlos.”

Carlos smiled at this, and closed his eyes. “You’re the beautiful one, Cecil.”

Cecil only chuckled, and shut his eyes as well.

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND NOW TO THE EPILOGUE WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rinse, lather, repeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEEEEEEEE IT'S MIDNIGHT AND I'M SLEEPLESS WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The trip back to Night Vale was spent in comfortable silence, Cecil leaning over the gear lever to press himself against Carlos as he drove down the desert road, moving every so often when Carlos needed to change gears or pull the hand brake.

At every red light, they would kiss and kiss until the timer ran out, revelling in their matching rings and Vegas haul silently, before moving on down the road.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

The moment they exited the freeway, however, things took a turn for the worse. There were helicopters circling the sky, and the both of them knew who it was.

“Carlos,” Cecil hurriedly said, pulling his ring off, and slipping it onto Carlos’ finger. “I need you to get to your lab, as fast as possible.”

“Wait, Cecil, I—”

Cecil smiled at him kindly, and kissed his knuckles. “I’ll be okay—it’s just re-education at the abandoned mine shaft; I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

“But—”

“Keep the stuff safe for me while I’m gone—we’ll look at the photos together when I come back,” Cecil smiled at him reassuringly, but Carlos could see through the sunny exposition to see the worry clawing at even Cecil beneath his smile. “Erika, Erika and… Erika will keep you out of the Secret Police’s eyes until you get home, okay? It’ll be as if only I left.”

“Cecil, listen to me—”

“You’ve done all this for me, Carlos. I’ll pay you back this time.” He smiled, and his third eye opened, and suddenly he was gone.

(Again, he thought.)

* * *

“Well, listeners, today I went out on a date again with Carlos!”

Cecil gave Carlos a little wave from where he was sitting in the booth, still gushing over his latest date with his boyfriend at Big Rico’s, and Carlos returned the wave, before mouthing that he would expect Cecil at his apartment after his broadcast.

After a thumbs-up and a flying kiss (that resulted in embarrassment and giggling interns) Carlos bade his boyfriend goodbye.

Alone, he walked back into his apartment, looking down at the two silver wedding rings on his finger, and he sighs as he unlocks his door and immediately goes to a safe at the back of his apartment.  Quickly, he unlocks it with soundless dials and pulls out its single item inside—a leather-bound journal that was a little thick, with photos sticking out of it at angles and fattened with attachments by glue, staples, tape and paperclips.

It was locked-over three times, with titanium, and he easily opens it with a single press of his thumb into the fingerprint detector, to the latest blank page, marked by a simple ribbon.

With a pen he pulled from his lab coat pocket, he wrote an entry: the date three days ago, and attaches the ring to the page with a piece of tape.

With large letters, he wrote: “ _Got married. – Vegas, overseen by Reece Blasco – insurance guy’s son_.”

He looked at the entry again, with a sad, longing glance, before flipping back to other pages, looking through two years’ worth of memories, full of photos and entries of him and Cecil travelling all over the world:

China.

(“ _Carlos, there are_ skeletons _in the wall—do you think they would reinforce them better? The Council should hear about this innovation!_ ”)

Canada.

(“ _I_ still _am not convinced mountains exist, Carlos, no, I still love you, but mountains simply don’t exist!_ ”)

Germany.

(“ _They have_ so much beer _, Carlos, so much beer_!”)

India.

(“ _This soup tastes strange—are you sure it’s spice? What if it’s radon? Don’t you know from seventh grade life science that radon tastes like spices?_ ”)

So many countries—so many plane tickets, hotel receipts, pictures.

(Carlos fondly smiles, looking down at a photo of Cecil smiling at him over his shoulder as they stood at the Von Trapp mansion’s garden pavilion in Austria.)

Entries, evidence of memories Cecil doesn’t remember.

“This time, I swear.” He murmurs reassuringly to himself, as he closes the book again, locking it securely, before putting it back into the safe, locking that as well. He pulled his ring off, and threaded it into a chain, before wearing it, with a small sigh. “I’ll get Cecil out of here—this time, I swear.”

A hooded figure watches him from the window, silent, but knowing, and understanding.

It wishes happiness for its child—for its Voice of Night Vale, but quietly hopes the book will never run out of pages for entries.

Carlos is going to need so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And remember, NEVER LET BUKKUN WRITE FOR YOUR OTPS BECAUSE LOOK AT WHAT SHE DOES TO THEM.


End file.
